


Doctor's Discretion

by radishleaf



Series: The Fool, Reversed - Ezra Oneshots [3]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Canon, Spoilers, it's not directly addressed but it is there, more steaminess in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 21:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radishleaf/pseuds/radishleaf
Summary: Their first entanglement ended in rejection, but doctor's discretion made it impossible for Julian to truly forget what he felt with Locke.





	Doctor's Discretion

**Author's Note:**

> please note, this is a direct sequel to 'to cure a broken heart.' you needn't have read it to get the gist of this one, but there's more steaminess in the first one lol. this is more of a follow-up fic. 
> 
> anyway, writing julian was fun. i also think i got a feel for the character of my fan apprentice, locke. i kinda wanted this to be longer, but i got a little lazy near the end, ahaha;;;
> 
> i'm fond of visualizations for characters, so have some art of my fan apprentice: [plonk](https://file.toyhou.se/watermarks/14502373_OqtsXvNNp.png). 
> 
> as always, kindly disregard any grammatical errors, punctuation mistakes, and the like. i tried to be thorough. enjooooy.

Whenever he found himself swept away by the depths of fixation, Julian threaded a line between mirth and obsession. He throttled this line like a child given a puzzle to solve; teetering between testing his mental limits and stringing them so thin he could tear his hair out by the handfuls from frustration. It was this he blamed for his interest in finding a cure for the plague; not just for the sake of the victims (though he won’t deny this was always his forgone reason), but for the thrilling reward of _finally_ unearthing the answer so many others sought. Sleep and meals paled in comparison to this euphoria he chased with restless abandon, but recently, he found himself taking a detour. The reason?

Something new had piqued his interest.

It was nearing two months since Julian’s sudden entanglement and rejection of his apprentice, Locke. He’d done so in good graces; after all, Locke had suddenly opened up to him, but this did not mean Julian was a cure for a broken heart. To carry on from there would just break Locke’s heart more, leaving him to love with the little pieces. That wasn’t something Julian wanted to do to him—hurt him more. Or himself, for that matter, when he’d finally grown fond of a man he once thought incapable of basic human emotion. Locke hadn’t reached the definition of “friend” yet, but he was definitely at the point of “friendly acquaintance who was also incredibly attractive.”

Which, unfortunately, Julian couldn’t stop thinking about.

As even if he justified his rejection under the pretense of hurt feelings, the slithery serpent known as Lust had coiled itself around his brain and refused to budge. Reveries of those stolen kisses, intermingled breathes, the sharp pain of nipped skin, fingers sliding against flesh—Julian found himself plagued by them. Whenever he tried to crack down and research or experiment, his mind would wander, and he’d find his insides burning for that steely gaze and how it made him feel like jelly. He yearned for a moment like that with Locke again, but it was easier said that done. Namely because Locke looked entirely disinterested in doing it again, and Julian found himself too choked up in his presence to even bring it up. 

_After all, I just can’t say, “Ah, fancy seeing you here, Locke. Want to skip work, find a private corner, and shove your tongue down my throat?”_ Julian thought as he narrowed his eyes at a line of jarred leeches. The engorged creatures rolled about in red pools of their own making, indistinguishable between satisfied or sick. _I mean, there’s nothing saying I_ can’t _, but it’s not a proper invitation. There needs to be a mood, a feeling, like the first time!_

Not that Julian cared for the particulars—he’d done far worse in far more unsavory locations. It was all because Locke was _different_. There was an aura to him that pulled a drive out of Julian he was still deciphering himself. The raw truth was: Julian discovered he _liked_ being manhandled. How badly and how often was still to be determined, but the doctor settled on this when Locke loomed over him the first time they were together.

 _That was the magic spell he cast on me_ , he thought, _even when he used no magic at all._

Julian picked up one of the jars and joggled it slightly. The leech within hit the sides with wet splats; the diseased blood of an unnamed plague victim smeared on the glass. Giving a sniff of disgust, the doctor tore off a corner from a scrap piece of parchment, scribbled “NO,” in bolded text with his quill, and fixed it to the jar. Whatever his ideas were for the leeches, it had turned up moot. Thanks to all of his mental prowess being concentrated on Locke and his sexual frustration, even his creativity had lapsed when it came to treatment.

 _How pathetic I must seem_ , Julian thought. _Blaming_ my _problems on others. What kind of doctor am I?_

Julian continued to stew in his own distractions, completely unaware Locke had made his way into the doctor’s quarters. He had slipped in just as Julian picked up a jarred leech, unsure of whether to disturb him from his supposed research. Yet, the steaming mug of tea from one of Asra’s blooming tea bundles would grow cold if Locke stood around too long, so he stepped in beside Julian and tried to catch his attention.

“Dr. Devorak,” Locke said, though his call went unheeded.

Julian picked up another jarred leech and turned it about, his mutterings inaudible but swift. Locke could only look on with admiration toward the doctor’s steadfast concentration, but again, lukewarm tea was a tragedy he was trying to avoid. When repeated attempts proved futile, Locke broke the mold by reaching out and catching Julian’s forearm. At once, the room went quiet.

“ _Dr. Devorak_ ,” Locke insisted this time. “Are you okay?”

Julian’s response was explosive. He jolted with such strength the jarred leech he held shattered on the floor; the leech itself wriggling helplessly in its own juices. Locke backpedaled as the doctor hastily scooped it up onto a tray and dumped it into am empty drinking glass; toping it off with the tray as a temporary lid. He carefully scooped the glass remnants into the trash bin before shedding his gloves as well; there was no chancing contamination, even if unlikely with initial contact with victim bodily fluids.

“Fine. Just fine. Thank you,” Julian said, unable to look at Locke as he let out a bedraggled sigh. “What’s the matter? Did a patient call for me?”

“Ah, no. No, Dr. Devorak, I just thought, perhaps”—Locke held up the mug of tea—“you’ve been working tirelessly lately, so I thought you’d like something warm to drink?”

Julian was taken aback by such kindness. Admittedly, he expected as much from Locke considering his wiling volunteering to help victims of the plague, but never directed _at_ him. The personal effort was endearing, even if Julian was putting more leverage on it than warranted. His heart gave a gave a small thump as he turned and reached for the mug, desperately avoiding looking at those dark amber eyes pinning him to the spot.

“Thank you, Locke,” he said. “This was very considerate of you.”

The brush of his fingertips against Locke’s rose his hackles ramrod straight, but he hastily ignored his accelerated pulse to down a sip. The tea’s flavor was rich; floral, fruity, with a hint of an exotic spice Julian couldn’t place even after downing another drink. Yet, the taste paled in comparison to the warmth that spread through his chest—a hint of the magic imbued in the tea that was likely released when seeped. Julian was fond of the feeling, even if his preferred bias was something strong enough to knock out a horse with just one sip.

Julian felt scrutinized under Locke’s gaze as his apprentice studied him. The doctor wouldn’t deny he _enjoyed_ the undivided attention, especially from someone so attractive, but it was another unneeded building block on a tower of mounting frustration that he didn’t want to address. Yet, the earnest desire to have Locke grab him by the throat or something then and there had the doctor internally swooning.

Locke’s query drew Julian out of fantasy when he asked, “Is it to your liking? I wasn’t sure if you preferred sugar and/or milk with your tea.”

“Yes, this is how I prefer it. It tastes divine, thank you.”

“Really? Wonderful. I guessed correctly, then; I noticed how you take your coffee black, and thought the same for your tea. Though I don’t know how you can do it. Isn’t it bland?”

“Oh, incredibly, but that bitterness is an acquired taste. I find it rich—like this tea. May I ask where you got it from?”

“F-from the man—the man I parted ways with. His name was Asra. He made it himself.”

“Mm, it definitely has the touch of a magician. I can taste the magic in it. Do you make teas yourself?”

“No, I haven’t the skill for it.” Locke blushed slightly. “Asra said I have a knack for making laxatives, however.”

Julian choked, his gulp of tea daring to spray out of his nose as he gave a hearty bark. He laughed uproariously, only managing to calm himself upon wiping the dribble from his chin. Still, his body trembled from repressed laughter.

“T-that’s—wow—what a talent,” Julian said, before his lips pried back in a pearly smile. “Nevertheless, one day, I would like a taste of your magic.” Realizing the implications of his words, he swiftly added, “O-of your tea, of course. The magic of your tea.”

Locke shook his head. “I’d advise against it,” he said. “I’m better at practical magic, not enchanting items.”

“Hm. I have seen you do some minor things before, but I’m very curious as to what you’re capable of.”

A small smile curved on Locke’s lips. Julian’s heart quickened. “I actually wanted to bring it up with you. I know some charms that can ease the ailments of plague victims, but was unsure if it was something sound to do.”

Julian cocked his head, intrigued. “Such as?”

“Well, instead of explaining, I could show you? I was actually going to offer trying the spells _on_ you.”

Julian’s eyes snapped to Locke’s hands. Swallowing thickly, he said, “A, um, doctor’s discretion would be advised, yes. I’ve nothing against you using me as a guinea pig. Do your worst.”

Locke winced. “I’d rather not do my worst,” he said, raising two fingers to Julian’s temple. “It could have disastrous results.”

Julian’s face reddened as Locke’s touch lingered. Suddenly, there was a flash of white in his periphery before a cascade of warmth stretched across his forehead, bringing some comfort to his cloud of frustrations. It was doubly more effective than the tea, and this not just from Julian’s obvious butterflies.

“This one works for headaches and migraines,” Locke explained. “It eases the mind.”

“I-I can feel that,” Julian said. “How long does it last?”

“Not long, twenty minutes at most. It’s good for temporary relief.”

“Ah, then it might do well for patients who have difficulty sleeping.”

“I was thinking the same thing. This one”—Locke’s hand dipped as he glided his fingers passed Julian’s ear and to the base of his neck—“it’s similar to the first, but calms the body.”

Julian couldn’t see the charm at work, but he certainly felt it. From the touch of Locke’s fingertips down the length of his spine, his entire body felt as if it were melting. He actually staggered on his legs a little; having to prop himself up with both hands on the table beside the jarred leeches for fear he might fall. Locke started and dropped the charm to catch him, eyes searching the doctor’s face frantically for fear something had happened.

“D-Dr. Devorak, are you all right?” he asked. “Did something happen?”

It was too much. For Julian, it was too, too much. The warmth, his own heady feelings, Locke’s close proximity—it had dashed Julian’s sensibilities asunder. He couldn’t deny it any longer: He was a thirsty son of a bitch and his apprentice was entirely to blame. Julian couldn’t even discern if Locke was seriously oblivious or playing coy at this point as he hovered before him, calling his name again and again. It annoyed Julian greatly.

“D-Dr. Devorak, if something happened, please— _mmph._ ”

It was the easiest way to shut him up. Julian closed the distance between himself and his apprentice, slotting lips against his clumsily. At once, those repressed desires and feelings within him flooded out, and Julian had to hold back a whimper in frustration when Locke pulled back too quickly. Silence filtered into the space between the two, both of them at a loss for words. Julian had the wherewithal to break the tension first, but it was Locke who spoke before him.

“What… was that… for?” he asked slowly.

Julian swallowed thickly. “I, ah...”

“You… You rejected me the first time. Don’t you remember?”

“Y-yes, yes I did, but”—Julian glanced up into those eyes that had become the bane of his existence lately—“things… ended up different.”

“How so?”

“E-even if I morally rejected you, physically, well…” The doctor shifted uncomfortably. “I’m still a man, Locke. I can still _feel_ things.”

“As I’m aware.” Locke glanced down, then back up to Julian’s face. “I’ve noticed.”

Julian reddened. “Damn it all, don’t embarrass me more,” he snapped.

Locke’s gaze dropped again. “Even when something like that interests you?”

“E-Ezra, damn it!”

It was as violent as last time—their second, third, fourth, umpteenth kiss. Heated curses and pants were exchanged when both were consumed by the underswell of wanting and being wanted. Somewhere in the tangle of it all, Julian lost his top, and two buttons popped off of Locke’s lapel. They hadn’t a care as to their whereabouts, however; the only thing that mattered was the sharp swipe of tongues, the clawing of nails against skin, the twist of skin between teeth.

After _finally_ letting it all out for a pregnant moment, Julian flopped back onto the table as Locke leaned over, considering him. They’d only just begun, but the state of things was simply too much. All or nothing—that’s what Julian realized how Locke dealt with things. Either have all of me or none at all. Frankly, Julian would accept his everything happily, as long as he never, ever stopped coming on so strong.

Locke bent forward and crushed a kiss on him again, parting by nipping Julian’s bottom lip playfully. “Where do we go from here?” he asked against his lips. The drag of his fingers down Julian’s downy chest had him quivering. “This is, ethically, very, very wrong, but—”

“As if I’m not aware,” Julian retorted. “I’m a doctor, after all.”

“Yes, yes. But I need an answer, Julian.” The doctor’s heart flickered to suddenly be addressed by name. “Is this simply something physical, or is there more? Do you—”

“No.” The word escaped Julian with some finality. “I feel things, but not feelings.”

“Not yet.”

“You have my word, Ezra. I won’t be clouded by emotion, but what about you? That Asra of yours, is he still on your mind?”

“ _Always._ ” Locke brushed a strand of hair from Julian’s cheek. “But this and that are far two wholly different things. Think of this as, perhaps, something therapeutic. Something healing.”

Julian flashed him a devilish smile. “Sexual healing?”

Locke winced. “Mhm, if that works for you.”

He gave a small laugh. “Fine, then. I can work with that.”

“So then…” Locke didn’t shy from tugging down the corner of Julian’s trousers, thumbing the small jut of his hip bone. “I know we’ve much to discuss, but let’s make up for lost time first, yes?”

Julian gulped, enchanted beyond reason to have Locke take the lead so readily. “Yes, l-let’s,” he said weakly before Locke was over him again.


End file.
